


Perfect Fit

by OutRes



Category: Control (Video Game)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Early Game, Emily Pope likes butt stuff and doin it with the HRA on, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/F, Female Ejaculation, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Implied Anal Sex, Improvised Sex Toys, Internal Monologue, Light Dom/sub, Minor Injuries, Mother Hen Emily, Oral Sex, Scars, Slight Foot Fetish, Strip Tease, Table Sex, torn clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 12:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutRes/pseuds/OutRes
Summary: An explosive shootout leaves Jesse in desperate need of new gear. Luckily, she knows just the person to see about that.





	Perfect Fit

**Author's Note:**

> I recently finished Control. It's a fantastic game with even fantastic-er writing. I was surprised to see relatively-little fic for the game, so I decided upon a little bit of romantic smut featuring two of the game's best characters not named Darling. Enjoy!

_ Damn, damn, damn. _

Jesse Faden pulled.

_Shit._

The young redhead was bloodied, battered. Her leg, trapped, under what felt like a metric ton of concrete and rebar.

_If I knew you were leading me into a fucking warzone…_

The entity she called Polaris was silent, perhaps muzzled by the dull yet pervasive pain of her confined limb. Jesse couldn’t tell.

She stopped, hands white with tension and chalky detritus, and slumped. Looked up from her half-seat on crumbling stairs. Sighed.

_Is this… a cafeteria?_

Polaris flashed an affirmative.

_Oh, *now*_ _you talk to me._

The Oldest House, as downright weird as it had proved in her short time within its halls, was still a house, she supposed. A house with a kitchen… and no shortage of concrete pillars, one of which had crumbled atop the Bureau of Control’s new director after a lucky hit from a Hiss-possessed guard’s rocket-propelled grenade.

She braced against the stairs, and pulled again. No effect.

_What kind of “Bureau” equips its *indoor* guards with fucking RPGs, anyway?!?_

Definitely a top-priority query for Emily Pope, when Jesse saw the blonde, eccentric scientist again.

If she saw her again.

Snapping herself out of the cloud of melancholy, Jesse focused on the bright side.

_At least I took out all the guards. At least only my leg is stuck. At least I have…_

She looked at the object, left flat against the stairs in the rush to pull herself free. 

_The Service Weapon. _

Jesse pondered for a second, took the gun, aimed its undulating barrel towards the biggest of the concrete chunks. And fired.

A regular bullet might have ricocheted off the rock-solid material, likely back at Jesse herself. But this was no ordinary bullet, nor was the Service Weapon an ordinary gun.

A resounding *crack* echoed through the cavernous room, as the paranatural projectile bit deep into the concrete. Jesse wasn’t quite sure if the deafening sound was the report of the gun, or the caving of the slab; she was just thankful that the bullet hadn’t ejected into her calf.

Feeling the pressure on her leg lighten somewhat, the Director marshaled her reserve, and _ pulled. _

This time, the leg came free. Somewhat.

Something was still holding her foot in place, but Jesse couldn’t pick it out in the pile of rubble. 

_Come on._

She tugged again. Nothing. 

_Come on!_

The redhead slightly raised herself, her long arms and unrestrained leg scrabbling for traction on the stairs. Slowly but surely, she twisted her body to brace against the metal railing. Jesse could feel her trapped ankle complaining in response, but she ignored it.

One more time, clinging to the rungs of the House itself, she pulled.

With result.

_Finally!_

Whatever was grasping the Director’s foot had let go… but not without a cost. Jesse heard and felt the muffled tear, the cool sensation on her socked sole.

She sighed again.

_Damnit._

Now free of the debris, what had happened was now almost-humorously apparent; the sole of Jesse’s black leather boot had torn free, ripping along the seams almost to the toe. It hung down towards the floor, drooping like an elephant’s trunk.

The redhead blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, stared up at the ceiling. 

“Well, fuck me.”

The House, perhaps for the best, remained silent.

With a groan, Jesse flopped back on the steps, and started working at now-irrelevant laces. 

_I’m gonna guess the Bureau doesn’t have a cobbler on staff._

Jesse yanked the damaged footwear off, and tossed its mangled form down the stairs. 

_Definitely the last time I buy shoes from “sketchy dude outside the bus depot.” _

To punctuate that thought, the redhead repeated the action with her other boot. 

_Can’t be hobbling around._

Jesse drew herself up to lean against the stairs’ railing and considered her options. She imagined the many, many hard surfaces of the Bureau, to the wood paneling of the stairs to the barely-existent carpeting in the offices.

_Yeah, there’s no way I’m running around this place in wool socks._

So she had to track down some shoes. Well-soled ones. Looking down at her feet, Jesse chuckled and murmured, “And maybe some socks too.”

A pearly big toe was sticking out of her right sock. She’d worn the grey pair across the country in search for her brother, Dylan, and it definitely was beginning to show.

But as her gaze traveled up her leg and her body proper, Jesse arrived at a stunning realization.

_Holy crap, I am beat to shit!_

It wasn’t just the bumps and bruises suffered in this most recent encounter; the intense firefight had taken its toll on her outfit, too. For starters, there were holes everywhere, and Jesse could see pale skin peeking out from her arms, thighs, and torso. The left sleeve of her faux-leather jacket was torn nearly up to the shoulder, and, to Jesse’s surprise, the collar of her low-cut olive t-shirt was stretched down past her breasts, exposing her navy blue bra. 

_Oh, right, that one possessed guy *did* try to make a grab for my gun. _

_Guess he caught shirt instead._

The Director shivered, suddenly aware of her state of dress. But after a moment, she scoffed and shook her head.

_Not many folks around here who aren’t dead or Hiss. _

_And the ones who are alive, they would probably care more about studying me than…_

Jesse’s eyes sparked with realization.

_Oh shit, Emily!_

Right before she’d left to go find the Hotline, Jesse had noticed Emily and her crew moving large boxes out of their shelter and the adjoining offices. There had to be some gear she could filch out of them.

_In any case, Emily would probably know where I could find some damn boots._

And so the Director padded up the stairs, and toward Central Executive.

*************

“Oh my God, what happened to you?”

The scientist was up out of her chair even before the belabored Director had crossed the threshold to the windowless, reinforced board room.

Jesse waved her off. “Oh, just a bit of a fight with some Hiss guards in the cafeteria,” she breathed out while falling into an office chair. “Who gave those guys RPGs, anyway?”

Emily paused. “That’s standard equipment for our Rangers, but first: Your head is bleeding.”

_What?_

“What?” Jesse’s fingers started probing around her head. “Where?”

Pope quickly closed the distance between them, a first-aid kit already hanging from her shoulder.

“Don’t do that,” the scientist warned, her hands gently catching Jesse’s wrists and guiding them back down to her side. “The Hiss clearly doesn’t affect you the way it does everyone else, but I still don’t want to risk it getting into your bloodstream directly.”

_Riiiight. Should have washed my hands._

Emily snapped on a pair of latex gloves from the kit and cradled Jesse’s head with one hand, while holding up a light to her forehead with the other. 

“But luckily for you, it doesn’t seem to be much more than a cut. Some disinfectant and a bandage, and you should be fine!”

Jesse smirked, despite her situation.

_From fearful to clinical to cheerful in under 30 seconds: The Emily Pope story!_

Despite their very limited interactions, the Director was already warming up to her new subordinate. She admired how quickly Emily processed her emotions in favor of action, and yet didn’t seem cold or unfeeling as she did so. Just… very eager to do science.

_She smells like vanilla and lavender _.

That, the redhead had chalked up to the head injury at first, but as the blonde thoroughly disinfected the wound, Jesse realized that she really *did* smell like vanilla and lavender. Not at all the antiseptic smell she’d assumed it would be, given Emily’s profession.

She liked that little idiosyncrasy.

“I didn’t know you were a medical kind of scientist,” Jesse ventured.

“I’m not, but workplace injury at the Bureau is more or less a given,” Pope chirped. “Most of the time, it’s just cuts and bruises, but about a month ago, I had to perform an emergency tracheotomy on one of the research assistants.”

_Wow._

“It was an Altered Item, a colored plastic ball that compels the user to try to ingest it. We found out about it when a doctor who had removed it from a child’s windpipe tried to consume the Item itself.”

Emily paused in her ministrations, a far-away look in her eye.

“A certain researcher,” her head subtly indicating a middle-aged man with a bandage around his neck taking readings in the corner, “failed to take the proper precautions, and well, you can guess what happened.”

She composed herself, started to apply the bandage.

“Still, it happens to the best of us! Plus, the benefits are out of this world.”

Jesse couldn’t help but snicker. “Good dental?”

“Good, well, everything,” Emily asserted, smoothing the bandage over the redhead’s porcelain skin. 

She looked down, and smiled. “Cuts are covered, too.”

_Is… is she into me? Because I think I might be fine with that._

Jesse returned the smile.

Emily blinked, as if in surprise, and turned on a heel, throwing away the gloves and closing the kit. “Anyway, it looks like you’re good to... go.” 

The scientist had finally caught sight of the reason Jesse was here.

Jesse stopped her before she could begin to react. “The reason I came here is that I need some new gear.” The Director looked down herself, and wryly muttered, “Something tells me the Oldest House isn’t too keen on modern apparel.”

Pope had been purposefully directing her eyes away, a slight blush on her cheeks, but Jesse’s quip had suddenly kindled an idea in her.

“Actually, no; the House only rejects modern electronics, not modern fabrics. I think your… issue may just be that most civilian clothes aren’t made with running firefights in mind. Hmm.” The scientist broke off, pacing the room in her no-nonsense ensemble, a white short-sleeve button-up, navy slacks, and black boots. 

_Wouldn’t mind taking *those* into a fight._

Emily steadily made her way around the large, granite boardroom table, opening cardboard boxes handed to her by stoic-faced functionaries and withdrawing articles of clothing from them. A dark grey jacket, black shirt, a pair of tipless gloves, brown pants, and a set of light brown boots soon adorned the table, and Jesse began to paw through them.

And yet again, Pope had to steer her hands away. This time, however, a sheepish pall passed across her face, and she uttered a quick “sorry” before clearing her throat.

“Okay, the outfit that I’ve thrown together here is similar to those worn by our agents on undercover assignment. You know, for hunting down OoPs or Altered Items without drawing attention. What differentiates it from standard wear is that the shirt, jacket and pants are all padded with overlays containing a material we call “Black Rock” which provides our people with protection from hostile resonances.”

_Black Rock. Hostile resonances. Okie dokey._

Emily added, “It’s also resistant against everyday wear, and fast-moving projectiles.”

_There we go._

“In any case, it should last you a *lot* longer than your current clothes are… did,” Emily awkwardly corrected, the blush returning.

_It’s gonna be fun coming back here._

Still, Jesse had to save the poor woman. “Don’t sweat it. Thanks for gathering all of,” making a likewise-awkward encompassing gesture towards the pile of clothes, “this.”

“Don’t mention it. You’re my boss, after all.”

_Ugh._

“I suppose so,” Jesse said, somewhat sullen at the reminder. 

_But hey, new clothes!_

The Director stood, immediately shucking her tattered jacket while the scientist shooed away her assistants for privacy’s sake. Jesse was about to whip off her shirt when she noticed that Emily hadn’t followed them, and was standing there, staring. Intently.

Hands still frozen mid-lift, Jesse quietly queried, “Uh, what’s up, Emily?”

Shame flickered across the scientist’s face, before resolve clamped down. “I need to observe. There’s a small chance the clothes may somewhat inhibit your… resistance to the Hiss, and so I need to stay and monitor for any paranatural effects.”

Jesse’s brows furrowed. She didn’t see any specialized equipment in here. “How?”

Emily gulped. “By asking you if you feel funny. Or strange.”

_Uh huh._

The scientist’s face was as red as a Hiss-possessee. “Plus, they, uh, may not fit you. I can scrounge around for replacements if that happens.”

_Mmhmm. _

On a dime, Jesse’s expression flipped from one of suspicion to cordiality. “Okay, sure. It’s no problem.”

Emily eagerly nodded and, clipboard in hand, took her usual seat at the table.

_Okay. Don’t do a striptease. Don’t do a striptease._

With forced casualness, Jesse continued lifting her stretched-out olive shirt over her head, and dropped it on top of her jacket. 

Then, seating herself on the edge of the table, the redhead proceeded to pull off her holey gray socks. She bent her right leg up, massaging a reddened foot that ached from running and standing for so long on the hard floors. 

_That reminds me._

“Hey, are there any socks in one of those boxes?”

Jesse could hear Emily hastily clearing her throat behind her. “Um, sadly, no, but those boots are engineered to ‘breath’ in such a way that--”

The redhead interrupted, sparing herself the sales pitch. “Yeah, they have those outside, too. But do these ones, you know, work?”

Pope grinned. “Well, of course! That’s the great thing about the Bureau: Every workplace implement is triple-tested for quality and efficiency! 

_From one sales pitch to another._

“Okay, thanks,” Jesse muttered as she undid her belt and began to drop her worn jeans. For a moment, the waistband caught on the edge of her briefs, slightly dragging them down as well.

Jesse felt the cool breeze of the AC on her rear, heard Emily cough.

_Annnd I’m doing a striptease._

Pausing to hitch up her underpants, Jesse finally dropped and discarded the legwear. She turned around. Regarded the pile of clothes on the table, then Emily in her little chair.

The scientist’s expression - what Jesse could see behind the clipboard, anyway - was that of barely-mitigated desire. 

The Director sighed, and pondered.

_I’m really doing this? Here? Now?_

But then she thought of the impossible horrors outside the boardroom, and the shooting battle that she’d just narrowly survived.

_Fuck it._

Jesse, a measure of confidence in her half-naked stride, approached Emily, who remained motionless.

_Time for a pitch of my own._

“Look,” the redhead began, “this, the Hiss, the Oldest House or whatever you call it; it’s all… pretty screwed up.” She tried to suppress a gulp, failed. “I might walk out those doors, and, well, I might not walk back through them, you know?”

Pope simply stared, her eyes continuing to betray a most-unprofessional conduct.

“And I see how you look at me. Under circumstances that are definitely not these, I might, well, invite you out for a drink… or something?” Jesse, the majority of her years spent transient and on the run, didn’t exactly know much about dating (and only marginally more about sex), but she hadn’t the inclination to worry at the moment.

Emily, barely audible, murmured, “I’d like that.” The words moved like glaze upon her lips.

Her would-be suitor nodded, barely pausing in her pitch. “But who the fuck knows what’s going to happen in the next hour, so…” She licked her lips. “We’ve got this big table, right?”

The scientist took a single, lingering look at the pale-complexioned redhead towering above her. Worked her jaw in that weird way Jesse had seen her do a few times.

Before the Director could begin to feel like a piece of meat, Emily neatly placed her clipboard on the table. And slid it away.

The scientist fixed the woman with a gaze tinged with melancholy, but suffused with lust.

“Okay.” It was quiet, and for a second, Jesse thought she’d imagined it.

But then Emily pushed her chair back and stood, her blond, cropped hair coming into line with her superior’s red bangs and ponytail. 

She took a composing breath.

“We’ll have to work around the HRA.”

_Oh shit, right._

“Right,” blurted Jesse. The Hedron Resonance Amplifier vest, currently fastened to Emily’s shoulders and chest, prevented the scientist from ending up like the ragdolled employees floating around Executive Control, or the possessed guards roaming its hallways. Jesse, for whatever reason, didn’t need one; her guess was that Polaris provided some sort of protection from the Hiss effect.

_If she can’t take it off… fuck, that’s an impediment._

Seeing the mix of worry and dejection on Jesse’s face, Emily cut in. “But.. I think I have a way around that.” A mischievous look flashed in her eyes. “Somewhat.”

_Though, I guess if there was anybody who could figure it out…_

Still, Jesse just had to know. “Meaning…”

Pope started to pace, working at her shirt cuffs. “Meaning… well, okay. The HRA, for the most part, is simply a fastening device for this,” pausing to indicate the circular metal disk attached to her chest. “Now, I haven’t quite figured out what the metal is or how it produces the signal it does, but what I do know is that near-direct contact with the user is the sole essential element to its effective operation.”

She began working at the buttons on her collar, while Jesse stood nearby, half-naked and slack-jawed. All the redhead could do was repeat “Meaning,” as more and more of Emily’s lily-white skin was exposed.

The scientist beamed, albeit mid-sigh. “Meaning, come over here.”

Jesse complied.

Emily continued, as her fingers undid the last button on her white shirt. “Now, put your hands on the disk, and hold it against me. Firmly. And,” a measure of fear creeping into her voice, “don’t let go.” 

“Okay,” the Director breathed.

Pope, her shirt now hanging open slightly, started to undo the plastic buckles holding the HRA in place. As she unclipped them one-by-one, Jesse could feel the metal disc growing heavier and heavier.

_I’m not letting go, Emily._

Soon, the entire apparatus hung limply down the scientist’s front, its tiny power pack dangling towards the floor. 

Emily took a breath. “Okay,” she echoed. 

Carefully, the scientist untucked and shimmied out of her shirt. In a moment of reflex, she began to fold it, but stopped. She’d almost pushed Jesse’s hands out of the way.

Despite the near-calamity, Emily couldn’t help but sheepishly chuckle at that. Her “assistant” did the same.

_Old habits die hard, etcetera…_

While Pope lightly flicked her shirt onto the chair, Jesse took stock in her lover’s now-exposed, but still bra-covered torso. 

_Wow._

She’d expected the skin of an office drone, pale and flawless, aside from a few stretch marks. But in reality, Emily had nearly as many scars as Jesse herself did. The redhead suppressed a grimace.

_I’m almost afraid to ask…_

But the scientist caught Jesse’s look and provided for her curiosity. “I like to think of them as trophies, acquired in the pursuit of knowledge,” she said with an nearly-vainglorious air.

Jesse smirked, nodded towards her belly as she replied, “Wish I could make this two-incher I got outside a bar in Reno sound as heroic.” 

Pope purred, “That depends, what were you doing?”

The Director, already lost in the memory, murmured “Oh, just being,” the sensation of fabric breezing past her wrists bringing her back to the present, “me.” Jesse refocused on the blonde researcher, her chest now completely bare.

Before she could even react, Emily leaned over the redhead’s still-raised hands, and kissed her.

_Vanilla and lavender. _

Jesse eagerly returned it, sucking on the scientist’s bottom lip while her fingers on Emily’s lifeline whitened, trembling.

She broke the kiss.

“For the love of God, put the harness back on before you make me drop this damn thing.”

Emily snorted. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Director,” she remarked, sliding the straps back around her shoulders and chest. She shivered as the cool metal of the disc pressed into her pink, pebbling nipples.

_Guess I need to warm her up._

Jesse closed to embrace the scientist, lips ghosting down the length of her neck. Emily mirrored the motion, her hands moving down to caress the redhead’s pert behind, who hummed into her collarbone. 

Emily, in response, grabbed handfuls of brief and buttock alike, elevating Jesse’s lilting vocalization into a full-on moan. 

_Fuck, she really liked that little show._

The Director’s own hands moved to Emily’s chest, teasing at the exposed sides of her bust. 

_But two can play at this game._

Jesse began to massage the blonde’s breasts, their sensitive pink buds skimming the edges of the protective apparatus. Emily’s breath hitched, but with the echo of a chuckle on its ingress. Her hands moved under Jesse’s underwear, grasping for bare flesh.

The redhead, squealing, couldn’t suppress the reflexive, electric curl outwards into Pope’s lower torso, especially as those same seizing hands wandered at her most private places. The scientist almost stumbled, but Jesse caught her, a wild grin on her face. “Big table, don’t forget,” her voice still a few notes higher in pitch.

Lithe arms still coiled around Emily, the Director suddenly swung her subordinate around, pushing her against the table.

Jesse’s utterances were now guttural, near primal. “You like butt stuff, huh?” Emily, overwhelmed by the sudden shift in demeanor, barely managed a nod. 

“Get on the table.”

Emily began to gingerly climb atop the office fixture, but Jesse quickly moved in and pushed her down into it with one outstretched arm, the HRA clattering against the hard surface. The scientist lay flat on her stomach, panting.

The sight was downright empowering to Jesse, who quickly unclipped her bra and slipped off her briefs, exposing the untamed bush of red curls topping her moist quim. She began to play with herself, fingers tweaking a clit engorged at Emily’s half-naked and prone form.

Pope, for her part, began to toy with the stretchy waistband of her work slacks, but was quickly stopped by a forceful, needy “Wait.”

_Let me._

Jesse gripped Emily’s ankle, raising it so she could reach the zipper on the back of a thick-soled ankle boot. The scientist twisted to watch as the redhead pulled off the black footwear - and the dark turquoise sock underneath - to reveal a surprisingly delicate foot with light-pink painted toenails.

Pope’s blush deepened at the reveal of this embarrassingly-uncharacteristic bit of vanity… and deepened even further as Jesse gawked in apparent wonder at them.

Catching the scientist’s gaze, she caught herself, and awkwardly shifted. 

“I never had my nails painted,” the redhead sheepishly muttered. “Even as a kid, I… never got the chance, to, uh…”

Jesse deflated as she remembered her childhood in Ordinary, how it had been cut short.

_Oh, Dylan…_

A light touch on her palm suddenly brought her out of the sad reverie. Emily had sat up, was holding her hand.

“Hey,” the blonde near-whispered.

“Hey.” Jesse’s voice was raspy with emotion.

The pair stayed like that for a moment, Emily’s sad smile matching Jesse’s now-desolate gaze.

Emily added a second hand. Queried, as she was wont to do, “What do you need?”

Jesse almost retreated inwards again, but caught herself. Sighed with an outright sardonic air.

_What *don’t* I need?_

She sat on the edge of the table next to Emily’s outstretched legs. Jesse looked over at them, then up at their owner. 

“I think... I need you. Or, uh, will need you. More than I thought, actually.”

_I’ll tell her. The rest of it, not just about Ordinary, but about Dylan. And why I’m actually here._

Emily nodded, her expression the very definition of devotion.

At this, Jesse could only bite her lip.

_But later. Right now, I just want to make love to this gorgeous scientist lady._

“Also,” the redhead ratcheting up the ‘horny af’ undertones in her voice, “I want you to get back on your stomach.”

Emily beamed like she’d just discovered another dimension, and complied. 

The redhead jumped back up, and got to work on Emily’s other boot and sock. This time, the dainty toenails were painted a pale blue. 

_Emily, you are delightful._

Kneeling on the table, Jesse reached and caught the waistband of Emily’s pants. With no small amount of lasciviousness in her voice, she murmured, “Are you ready to proceed, _ Ms. Pope _?”

“Of course, _ Director, _” came the expected reply.

Jesse pulled them down, exposing a warm, generous tush clad in off-white panties. Not able to resist, the redhead slid her hands under the fabric, exploring the expanse within.

Emily groaned in delight... at least until her lover began to poke around her puckered anus. That provoked a gasp, the air hissing through her clenched teeth.

The redhead smirked as the scientist then relaxed and chuckled out a “I guess I earned that one…”

The slacks continued their downward journey, with Jesse drawing them over the blonde’s calves and feet, and onto the floor. The panties soon followed suit, but not before the Director took one, long sniff of the noticeably-moist fabric.

Jesse shuddered. She’d smelled her own arousal before, but never another woman’s.

_I want to see her._

The redhead laid a gentle hand on Emily’s thigh, and said, “Hey, turn over for a sec.”

Pope acquiesced, rolling over with a puzzled look on her face, one that was immediately covered by Jesse mounting the table and scooching up to straddle the blonde’s thighs between her knees.

Emily arched an eyebrow, but retained her arousal. “Yeah?”

The redhead didn’t reply. Not vocally, at least.

They stayed like that for a moment, making out madly in defiance of the world’s end, Jesse’s moisture rubbing into Emily’s orderly little patch of pubic hair. The redhead began layering kisses first down the scientist’s neck, then collarbone.

Pope slowly laid back down as Jesse continued downwards, moving the HRA aside to suck at her pebbled nipples as she herself thumbed her own sensitive nubs. Emily moaned, her back arching in electric pleasure.

_You ain’t seen nothing yet, sister._

Jesse resumed her succulent descent down the pale canvas of Emily’s skin, even as her knees began to ache. The scientist’s folds were red and puffy, her clit similarly engorged. The redhead laid a delicate kiss on the crimson pearl, before plunging her tongue into Emily’s depths.

She could feel the blonde’s muscles contract at the intrusion, perceived trembling fingers entwining in her red locks. Jesse hadn’t done anything like this before; she’d only seen it in online videos and the odd dirty magazine concealed between library books.

But judging by Emily’s reaction, she was doing a good-enough job. 

Her tongue beginning to throb, Jesse switched to sucking and blowing on the scientist’s clit. Not expecting the change, Pope spasmed against the table, the flesh of her legs audibly slapping against it. 

“Fuck.” 

Jesse glanced up, first in genuine surprise, but transitioned to mock disdain. “Now, Ms. Pope,” she tutted, “such language is unseemly of a Bureau empl-” 

Emily grasped the Director’s head, and thrust it back into her crotch. 

_Fair enough._

And so Jesse continued to eat out her subordinate, alternating between clit and vagina. The redhead diverted one of the hands that had been playing with her own erogenous zones to trace a teasing trail around Emily’s undulating asshole. 

The scientist was close now, her fingers scratching furrows in the table, pelvis gyrating in sync with Jesse’s ministrations. The lovers made eye contact yet again, their looks communicating a frenzied worry and need for the other’s release.

Emily bit off a sob as she orgasmed, her fluids dowsing Jesse’s face from forehead to chin. She limply fell back against the table as the redhead rose, her expression a mix of arousal and befuddlement.

_Dang, guess she hadn’t gone for a bit before this._

She looked down at the growing puddle of discharge, hand still unconsciously toying around her own pubis. 

_Granted, the restrooms are *definitely* haunted._

A voice intruded into Jesse’s inner monologue. “Director.” It was Emily, her eyes still shut in post-coital bliss.

_Shit, this is the part where she correctly reminds me how fucked up this is._

“Get down here.”

_Or not._

No sooner had Jesse joined her on the slick tabletop did Emily’s eyes inch open, a smug smile gracing her features.

“I believe you asked if I liked, and I quote, ‘butt stuff’?”

Jesse gulped. “I-I did, yeah.”

She just now noticed that the scientist was clutching something in her hand; it must have rolled across the table amidst their rambunctious activities. It was thick, cylindrical, and metallic.

_Is that a fucking test tube?_

It was.

*************

Forty-five minutes later, director and scientist lay in a greasy heap atop the table. 

The latter shifted, and a glistening metal object rolled off the table and onto the floor. It hit the floor with a piercing *clang* that startled both women out of their sexual denouement. 

Emily was first up, feet hitting the floor with a bounce as she began to roam the room recollecting all of the Bureau gear scattered by her and Jesse’s misadventures.

The Director, for her part, was still slowly rising from the tabletop, legs slowly swinging over the side as she took in her lover’s nude scavenger hunt.

_What I wouldn’t give to come back to *this* every time I came here…_

She shivered in the board room’s cool air, and in that moment, all her responsibilities came rushing back. Dylan. The Board. Trench. Ordinary.

_Polaris._

A brief, annoyed shimmer blossomed at the edge of her consciousness.

_Yeah, yeah. I know._

The redhead looked around for something to clean up with, eventually contenting herself with a box of wetwipes from the first aid kit.

Emily padded towards her, the bundle of clothes neatly folded in her arms.

“Here you go.” The professional look on the scientist’s face was not at all indicative of the near-hour spent having her various orifices plumbed by the makeshift dildo and Jesse’s eager fingers.

_Yep, we’re back in “work” mode._

Jesse, with an appreciative grin, thanked her, and started on the task of putting on her new gear. 

Soon, she stood, hair pulled back in a ponytail, stretching in the Black-Rock-inlaid shirt and pants. Emily wasn’t kidding about the boots, either; they didn’t feel stuffy or uncomfortable, even with the lack of socks.

The scientist, long since re-dressed as well, watched her intently as she went through her ritual, making occasional notes on the long clipboard.

“No uncomfortableness? Clothes riding up where they shouldn’t?”

Jesse waved her off. “No, no, it’s like they were… made for me.”

An uncomfortable silence hung over the pair for a few seconds before Emily’s eyes, betraying no emotion, fell back to her clipboard.

_Huh._

The Director cleared her throat. “Well. Anyway. I guess I should be on my way to the Hotline.”

“Just a moment.” Emily finished an entry on her clipboard, then let it drop down to her side.

The scientist composed herself, then began. “Director, I wouldn’t hold it against you if you pretended that the last hour between… us, didn’t happen.” She looked down, bit her lip. “But I don’t think that you’re that sort of person, to want to forget like that. Call it an educated guess.”

Jesse, for the first time since she entered the Bureau, blushed.

“And I guess what I’m getting at is that, well, I don’t want to forget, either.” Emily blew out a breath, in apparent relief at getting that off her chest. “But the Bureau is like any other government agency in that open relationships between subordinates and their superiors are generally frowned upon, to say the least; I couldn’t even imagine what it’d do to morale if the others found about our… liaison.”

The redhead finally spoke up. “Meaning, we gotta keep our thing on the down-low.”

Emily’s eyes went unfocused for a second, processing the words. She nodded. “Yes.”

Jesse shrugged. “Okay.”

The scientist sniffed, then crossed the distance between her and Jesse in a single stride, capturing her in a hug. 

She murmured into the redhead’s shoulder, “Thank you.”

Jesse relaxed into the embrace, content in this one constant of the Oldest House: Emily Pope’s love.


End file.
